Forgotten
by EclipsusLunaris
Summary: As Aaron Potter grows in fame, his forgotten twin, Harry, must struggle with the challenges that come with being the brother of 'the boy who lived'. alive!James, smart!harry. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (no matter how much I wish I did).
1. Repercussions of a Killing Curse

Chapter 1: Repercussions of a Killing Curse

October 31, 1981: Dumbledore was aware of the attack almost immediately as he sensed the wards surrounding the Potter house fall to the ground. Knowing that Lord Voldemort had somehow managed to bypass them and that the Potter twins were in imminent danger, he made his way to the house as quickly as he could. However, due to the anti-apparition charms he had set up around the area, it took him a good five minutes to reach the house and by that time, the damage had already been done.

Rushing into the house, he raced past an unconscious James and spared a passing glance at Lily's body lying crumpled on the floor of the nursery before hastening to the twins and scanning them quickly for any injuries. Both boys were awake and, surprisingly, neither was crying. The tears would undoubtedly come later. Right now there was just too much going on. The scans revealed that both were surrounded by dark magic and, upon further examination, Dumbledore saw that both boys bore marks from the attack. Harry had a thin, lightning-shaped cut on his left forehead while Aaron bore a clear V-shaped cut directly in the center of his forehead. Looking at them both, the wizened old wizard found himself at a loss: Which child was the prophesized one?

As a last resort, Dumbledore took out his wand to measure the magical auras of each and, upon finding young Harry's to be only half the size of his twin's, made his final decision...one that would determine the fate of the wizarding world in times to come. Turning to the aurors rushing onto the scene, he declared in a loud, authoritative voice that Aaron Potter was the prophesized child, vanquisher of Voldemort, and savior of the wizarding race.

While Aurors filled the room, Black and Lupin ran to check on James and Lily. Remus unleashed a cry of dismay as he discovered that the Dark Lord had used the killing curse not once, but twice that night and that the victim of the first lay crumpled on the floor of the nursery. Lily Potter was dead.

When James regained consciousness, his entire world shattered. Lily had been his everything and now she was gone. He sobbed, heartbroken as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms. She was gone. _Gone_. Lily was gone and he was lost. There was nothing left for him. Sirius moved to comfort him but Remus held him back, giving James time to process his grief.

When James emerged from his despair enough to be aware of his surroundings, Dumbledore and the aurors had gone leaving only his two best friends behind. They eyed him sorrowfully both of them also deeply hurt by Lily's death. She had been a beautiful person, always kind and compassionate, and with a great sense of humor, she had fit perfectly into their little group and it was only in her death that they realized just how much she had meant to each of them.

As he staggered to his feet, James' eyes drifted to the sleeping twins, two tiny black heads of hair peeping out from under the blanket blissfully unaware of all that had transpired. James stared at them in despair. He couldn't possibly be a father to them. Not now. He was too broken from the loss of his wife. Crumpling to the floor before the crib, he fell asleep as Remus and Sirius quietly made their way downstairs leaving their best friend alone with his infant sons.

It wasn't until a few hours later that James was awakened by small cries coming from the crib. He pulled himself up and peered in only to have his heart wrenched with grief as he found himself staring directly into Lily's eyes. Harry lay with his face up against the bars of the crib staring back at James with bright green eyes so reminiscent of his mother's that James had to force himself to look away. He fled the room. Sirius found him scrunched in a corner ten minutes later tears streaming down his face as he murmured Lily's name over and over. Sirius quietly told him that Moony was looking after the boys and laid a comforting hand on his best friend's shoulder.


	2. Eyes of the Mother

Chapter 2: Eyes of the Mother

As the months passed, James gradually began recovering from Lily's death and moving back into the normal pattern of life. What was he talking about: _normal_! His _wife_ was _dead_! Lily was _gone_! There was nothing whatsoever _normal_ about his life. Still, life without Lily was amazingly, albeit painfully possible, and James found himself falling into something of a daily pattern. It was not life as it had been, full of vibrancy and laughter, but he carried on as he knew he must.

He had moved with the twins back into the Potter manor once the aurors had determined that Voldemort was no longer an imminent threat but knew that the Dark Lord was, by no means destroyed and would probably seize his first opportunity to return and finish the work he had started.

Sirius and Remus had stayed with him a few weeks until they were satisfied that he had things under control and, though he would never admit it, their help with the twins and support had been invaluable. Since Lily's passing, he had avoided the boys as much as possible but he was soon required to resume his fatherly duties and care for his sons. The day Sirius and Remus left, he made his way hesitantly into the nursery, his eyes skimming over the place on the floor where his love's body had lain three weeks prior. Slowly, he made his way to the crib where the two boys lay peering up at him expectantly. One look at Harry's/Lily's brilliant green eyes and he nearly lost it. Steeling himself, he fixed his eyes pointedly on Aaron's dark brown eyes and slowly picked the older twin up carrying him gently downstairs to the highchair without a backwards glance at Harry.

Green eyes followed James' back through the door in confusion but Harry didn't make a sound, certain that his father would soon be back for him. When James returned an hour later however, it was only to place a bag of cheerios and bottle of water in the crib, eyes fixed anywhere but on his youngest son.

That night, James did not sleep. A terrible idea had entered his mind and was eating away at it. He couldn't possibly do it. It was the coward's way out. But then on the other hand, he could not live with the boy. He could not endure being reminded of his beautiful wife every time he looked into the child's eyes; could not stand to remember all the funny little expressions Lily used to make and the way she could get him to do anything by fixing him with her brilliant green eyes. There was no way he could keep this child who was so like her. He would die inside every time he looked at him. But surely there had to be other ways of dealing with it. Surely he could give the child to Remus or Sirius or even Lily's family but that would mean admitting weakness and if there was one thing James never did, it was admit to someone else that he actually needed help. He just couldn't bring himself to do that. And, given all the press the broken family had received following Voldemort's attack and disappearance, if he gave the child away, the entire wizarding world would know that he was weak. It would be smarter to deal with the problem quietly than ruin his reputation.

In the early hours of the morning, he finally came to the conclusion that, if he kept Harry, he would not be a good father to either boy. Whereas if he gave his younger son up, true, he would be a failure of a father to Harry, but he would be as good a father as he could to Aaron; better to be a good father to one than a terrible father to two. It was with this reasoning that James went down to the kitchens and drew aside his most loyal house elf, Tory.

"Tory I need you to do something very important for me", James explained.

"Anything for Master Potter", replied the elf, eager to please.

"I need you to take care of Harry...completely. I never want to see him again. Care for him well and make sure that he has everything he needs, but do not let me see him. It...it hurts too much."

"Master never wants to see the young master? Ever?" the house elf replied confused.

"Ever. Can you do that for me Tory?" James asked, a pleading note involuntarily making its way into his voice.

"Of course Master Potter. Tory can do it."

With that, James went out and fixed the room nearest his own for Aaron leaving Harry alone in the old nursery. Once everything had been prepared, he went in to retrieve Aaron never once meeting Harry's eyes and left the nursery. James would not set foot in the room again for years.

In the weeks that followed, his mind often strayed to his younger son but, as time wore on and old wounds began to heal, such thoughts gradually became less and less frequent until Harry finally became a mere shadow of a memory in his father's mind.


	3. Shadow of a Memory

Chapter 3: Shadow of a Memory

As James tried to forget his youngest son, Harry eventually accepted in his young mind that, for whatever reason, his father wasn't coming back. Tory did his best to keep the child contented but Harry soon grew restless and Tory found him out wandering the halls on numerous occasions.

After a close call with James, Tory finally cast the house elf versions disillusionment and silencing charms on the toddler so that, should he happen to come across his father on one of his wanderings, he would not disturb him and James would not be any wiser of it.

Tory would bring Harry his meals (two a day in the house elf fashion), bathe him, and put him to bed, but other than that, had little to do with the child. In assigning him Harry, James had neglected to relieve the elf of his other household duties and the overseeing house elf would not take an extra assignment as an excuse to shirk his other work. Thus Tory was kept incredibly busy and had little time to spend with the younger Potter twin. Not that he minded. While he was happy to serve the Potter household till his dying breath, Tory did not see taking care of a human child as a typical house elf duty and went about it as begrudgingly as a house elf is capable of obeying an order.

Harry meanwhile, took to following his father around the house whenever he could. Disillusioned and silenced, he was never noticed, but he followed nevertheless, naively hoping that his father would somehow sense his presence, forgive him of whatever wrong he must have done, and take him back in as his son with Aaron. If James did sense his presence however, he didn't let on. And so Harry followed him around the house, trying desperately to keep up on his short toddler legs as James strode swiftly from room to room, watching longingly as James spent time playing with Aaron, and listening on as James praised his elder son for taking his first steps.

After a few weeks of this torture, Harry finally began to give up on his father, realizing that he had been forgotten. He could not understand why James had abandoned him and he thought through all of the possible reasons trying to find a viable answer. He finally came to the conclusion that he must not be good enough for his father's love and that Aaron was somehow better than himself. How exactly, he didn't know, but that was the only explanation that made sense.

Suddenly, everything clicked in his small mind and he realized that if he had been abandoned because he was not good enough, he would be accepted back once he became so. Now the question was: good enough at what? He had been able to walk and talk long before Aaron so that couldn't be it. It was not until a few days later that he received his answer.

Harry had been down in the living room spying on his father again, hoping against all hope to be noticed when there was a knock on the door. James went to answer it and came back accompanied by an old man with a long, white beard that Harry barely remembered. After brewing another mug of tea, James sat down across from the man, (Albus, he called him), and the two settled down to talk.

The man, 'Albus', got right down to business: "You must understand, James, that the boy is in no immediate danger from Voldemort but the power it must have taken an infant to defeat a Dark Lord must have been immensely great. If Aaron has such great power, it is to be expected that he will differ from his peers in certain things."

"What things exactly?" James asked, slightly nervous.

"Oh, nothing terrible my boy, not at all," Albus chuckled. Harry noticed that his long beard dipped down and up as he laughed. "We just need to be prepared for some early bursts of accidental magic and, given Aaron's suspected power, they might be a bit stronger than your average bursts of accidental magic. Nothing too serious but if you wouldn't mind me examining the boy?"

"He's asleep at the moment..." James started.

"Oh not to worry my boy, I won't wake him. I just need to run a few scans to see that his magic is replenishing itself and that the dark magic I detected earlier around his scar has dissipated."

James however, seemed to take that as a definite reason to worry and said as much: "Dark magic around his scar? Albus, is my son alright?"

"Like I said, I just need to run a few scans. I'm sure the boy is fine. With such power as he possesses, his magic is bound to have pushed away the residue by now," Albus replied.

Consenting, James led the old man upstairs, Harry following curiously behind. Tiptoeing into the sleeping Aaron's room, Albus smiled softly at the peaceful expression on the infant's face and the trail of drool slowly making its way down his cheek. Lifting his wand, he murmured a spell and, after a few minutes, smiled, satisfied. He mouthed "all clear" to a worried looking James and stroked Aaron's hair down a few times before heading to the door where Harry quickly scrambled out of the way so as to avoid being caught spying.

Harry followed them to the door and managed to hear the last bit of their hushed conversation. To his surprise, it was actually about him!

"-shouldn't let the boys get too close to each other. Keep them separate. For the boy's own good of course. There is a good chance that Aaron will be targeted and we wouldn't want the child to be too affected by the loss of his brother. Also, Aaron will need to have special treatment and advanced training and we don't want young Harry growing jealous do we my boy," Albus was saying as James walked him out.

James mumbled his agreement and watched as the old man turned on the spot and vanished.

Harry returned back to his room thinking hard about the things he had overheard. So Aaron _was_ special! He knew it. It must be because of his great magical power. Well there's that problem solved. All Harry had to do was become as good at magic as Aaron clearly was and his father would welcome him back with open arms! He quickly began formulating a plan in his mind as to how to go about becoming as powerful as Aaron.


	4. Dusty Tomes

With the reason for his neglect discovered, Harry was determined to become the best he could and then show his father all he had accomplished in hopes that he would be accepted again.

He began searching the house in hopes of finding something to help him in his quest. The next day, Harry began his exploration peering into the many empty rooms that the house offered. It didn't take long for the three-year-old to discover the treasure trove deep within the Potter mansion...the library.

Green eyes opened wide as they took in rows and rows of dark mahogany shelves lined with ancient, dusty tomes that seemed to take on a glow in the dimly lit room. Harry gawked in wonder, then took a small step forward and tentatively reached a trembling hand to the first book. Pulling it from the shelf and blowing off years of accumulated dust, he stared down at the deep red binding and lightly traced the gold-embellished letters with his fingers. The Theory of Magic the title read and Harry's heart leapt with excitement when he realized he had actually understood the markings on the cover. How he didn't know, but somehow, Harry was able to read! Perhaps it was all of the books his mother had read to him as a child as he would follow along with her finger. Regardless, this discovery opened worlds of opportunity for the lonely child and he fell to the ground where he stood and opened the thick tome to page one.

About an hour and half later, Harry had finished the book and realized with alarm that it was probably getting close to the time when Tory would put him to bed. The last time the house-elf had had to look for him, he had not been pleased. Harry respectfully placed the book back where he had found it and, casting a longing look towards the rest of the shelves, quickly made his way out of the library and back towards his room.

When he had reached the nursery, Tory was already there, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. "And just where do you think you were Master Harry?" The house-elf queried irritably.

"I think that I was in the most beautiful place on the planet!" Harry replied ecstatically.

Tory sensed that Harry was about to go on and bore him with the details so quickly cut the child off. "Indeed. Well, you had best get your nightclothes on directly or else I shall have to confine you to your room tomorrow."

Harry stopped abruptly. He had been looking forward to sharing his joy with his caretaker but the threat of not being able to visit the magical place tomorrow was enough to silence him. 'Ah well,' Harry thought to himself, 'I can always tell him tomorrow.' And with that, Harry got dressed for bed and Tory, after ensuring that he had fully complied, turned the light out and shut the door smartly.

Harry, however, lay awake for a long time thinking blissfully about the beauty he had encountered and rereading the book, page by page in his mind.


	5. Foreign Tongues

Sorry people. No idea what that was but its fixed now. Thanks MammonDaughter:)

The next morning, Harry was awake long before Tory came into the room and the wait was killing him. Knowing that he would be punished if he left his room without Tory's permission, he remained in bed but his mind was already in the magical place with the magnificent books. He remembered every detail of it and imagined himself wandering among the darkened shelves to select a new book.

Finally, Tory entered the room grumbling about eggs and socks and was almost bowled over by Harry leaping from the bed charging towards him babbling about some book or other. The house elf rolled his eyes exasperatedly and ordered the child to cease pestering him and get his clothes on.

Not wanting to anger his caretaker any further, Harry immediately complied, pulling on a pair of muggle blue jeans and a long sleeve green sweater. Satisfied that his charge was dressed, Tory thrust a dark woolen cloak at him explaining that it would be getting colder and Harry would soon be immensely grateful for the added warmth.

After Harry had scarfed down a banana, Tory deemed his young charge sufficiently taken care of and apparated back to the kitchens muttering curses at everything that lived and breathed for the lot life had thrown him.

As Harry made his way, practically running, to the Place, he realized that the elf had been right as the stone floors and walls seemed to magnify the winter chill tenfold and he grasped his cloak tighter about himself. Finally, he arrived at the massive wooden doors and, without hesitation, pushed one open a crack and slipped inside, carefully closing it behind himself. As Harry turned around, his breathing again hitched and his heart leapt as he stared at the magnificence before him. He stood for a moment taking it in before walking slowly towards the nearest shelf. Harry moved along the shelf, running his fingers gently along the spines. Finally, a book caught his eye: "Wandless Magic For Beginners." Eager to begin, Harry pulled the book from its neighbors gazing at the silvery letters decorating the rich green leather as he walked the book over to a corner and sat down.

After having read about the theory behind magic the previous afternoon, Harry found the book relatively easy to understand and when the first practice spell was given, he decided to try it out. Lumos, the page read and Harry outstretched his hand and repeated it silently in his head, preparing to say it out loud. To his astonishment however, a soft, blue light appeared at his fingertips. Confused and delighted, Harry thought the spell again, this time with more force. The light grew brighter till Harry was sure that, if someone were to walk past the Library door, they couldn't help but notice it. At this thought, the light quickly diminished till it was barely visible. Without thinking, Harry murmured a soft finite incantatem and the light disappeared. It wasn't till he turned the page that he realized that he had just said a spell without having read about it. Puzzled, he read on, trying out different spells (both silently and verbally) by that afternoon, the child had finished the book and had over a hundred spells under his belt (the photographic memory really helped with remembering them all).

As he was replacing that book, a silvery glimmer near the top shelf caught his eye. A quickly thought accio and the book soared softly into his hand. The lettering on the cover though, was not like any of the lettering he had seen in the other books. The flowing twists and curves, however foreign, seemed to call out to him with a voice of their own, a soft, melodic voice he was sure he had heard at some point in his life. Perhaps every unborn child, lying still in the darkness, can hear the gentle voice of magic as it flows through their veins, a soft, steady trickle sounding like no instrument of human invention. Regardless, when young Harry gazed down at the text before him, as with the English letters before, he found that he was able to make sense of what it said and, with this newfound joy, he carried his treasure to his corner.

He read well into the evening and at bedtime, found himself having to place the beautiful book back where he had found it and run upstairs to beat Tory to his room. He made it there just in the nick of time and leapt in bed before the house elf got the chance to reprimand him. Tory came into the room and, on finding his charge already in bed, apparated wordlessly back to whatever important task the care of Harry had interrupted him from.

"Whatever Tory had been doing had clearly preoccupied his mind completely as he forgot to wake Harry up the nextmorning. Waking up was not a problem for the child as he was usually awake at the crack of dawn anyway but breakfast...that was a problem. By 7:30, Harry's grumbling stomach told him that Tory was clearly not coming and that he would have to fend for himself as far as food was concerned. The three-year-old sat in his twisted sheets and called out "Towy, I want some bwead pwease." What the child had initially intended to say, and what actually came out of his mouth were two completely different things. Someone passing by the door would not have heard the stuttering voice of a toddler but rather a silvery foreign tongue, sung more than spoken, the voice of an angel.

Downstairs in the kitchens, if Tory happened to have noticed that one of the rolls he had set out for James' and Aaron's breakfast spread vanish, he didn't think anything of it, but Harry definitely noticed when a warm, fresh-baked roll appeared floating in the air in front of him. Delighted, He tried again, this time requesting a glass of orange juice. It appeared as the bread had, not even spilling a drop. The child quickly ate the breakfast he had acquired by rather unconventional means before his caretaker had the chance to remember him and return to find the boy undermining his authority. When Harry finished his breakfast, he vanished the glass with a thought and wrapped himself up in his cloak to return to the foreign book.


	6. A New Home

Harry spent the rest of the morning reading the book in the strange language in the library and, when lunchtime rolled around, simply asked for food as he had for breakfast and vanished whatever was left over. When it was once again time for bed, the child decided that he was tired of waking and thought in the language of magic "take me to my room please". His magic complied and he soon found himself wrapped up in the warm covers of his own bed.

When Harry awoke, it was to a very irate Tory looming over him shouting about something Harry had neglected to do the day before. Confused and terrified, the four-year-old thought again "please let him forget about me!" And, once again, his magic complied. Tory stopped abruptly blinking several times and looking around as though he did not remember the reason for being there. He gazed over Harry with unseeing eyes and with a shrug, turned on the spot and disappeared to wherever he had come from. Harry, in his young mind, somehow understood this to mean that he was now more alone than he ever had been before but that that was not necessarily a bad thing. He now had the freedom to go wherever he wanted and go wherever he wanted and there was no one to stop him and drag him back to his nursery.

Speaking of nurseries, Harry glanced around himself and decided that he was really far to old to live in a place like this, with big blue elephants and purple kangaroos painted all over the pale yellow walls. I mean seriously! He was four years old! That practically made him a grown-up right? With this thought in mind, Harry set off, silent and invisible, through the house in search of a better place to live.

Naturally, his short toddler legs took him to the place his was most familiar with...the library. Looking around, Harry noticed that there was a small alcove above one of the shelves that he had not seen before. Moving closer, he saw a ladder leaning against the front of the shelf. Curious, the child climbed the ladder and stepped onto the platform at the top. What he found was a small wooden door with a heavy brass knob. Hesitantly, Harry reached for and turned the knob and was met with only darkness beyond. Thinking a short _lumos,_ he stepped into the now blue-lit room and saw a cozy little space with dark wooden walls and a plank floor. In all, it was perhaps ten by ten with a seven-foot ceiling but to the four-year-old, it was heaven. A place that fit him to a tea and one which he could finally call his own.

Delighted, Harry set about making it more livable. He started searching the house for furniture and made due with what he found. Discovering a cot in a forgotten closet, he teleported it to a corner of his new room, covering it with the warm blanket he had been using for the past four years. With a thought, he transferred his few possessions from the nursery into his new residence and began setting them up to make himself more comfortable.

As soon as he was satisfied with his new home, the child climbed back down the ladder, making sure to cast a silent yet powerful notice-me-not charm on the door. Harry then again walked along the shelves wondering which book he would read next.


	7. University

It had been four years. Harry was now eight going on nine and had read every book he could find in the house (including Aaron's untouched birthday present: _Quidditch Through the Ages)_. He had long since stopped trying to regain his father's acceptance. After a few highly unsuccessful attempts at gaining his attention in which his dad refused to even look at him, Harry had come to the conclusion that there must just be something inherently wrong with him that no amount of magical prowess was going to fix. After all, his father was older and therefore wiser and if he could tell that Harry was broken then he must be. The eight-year-old had given up any hope of fixing himself through study but still enjoyed reading and learning for the sake of it. True, he was broken, but if he could learn enough to make a positive impact on the world and maybe even help others, then perhaps he could offset some of that brokenness. This was Harry's new take on learning and he took it on with vigor.

The problem was that the child had read just about everything there was to read in the Potter mansion and there was no more easily accessible knowledge from which he could draw. At the age of eight, the child had mastered the art of wandless magic (not that there was much to master seeing as he already spoke the language of magic and was able to harness its power with merely a thought). Still, such a feat was remarkable in the most experienced wizard and a mere child accomplishing it was virtually unheard of. Harry however, had not had enough.

He had read in some of the books about muggle traditions and ways of living and was of the opinion that, despite what most wizards thought of them, their advancements in science and philosophy were far beyond what the wizarding world was even able to conceive. The thought that they rode in metal containers which ran on fuel which they dug out of the ground and drugged their brains with this chemical known as caffeine which apparently affected their brains so as to keep them awake was fascinating to him. The more he thought about it, the more the child realized that perhaps he had not exhausted the knowledge that the world had to offer him. Perhaps he had merely scratched the surface. There was a whole other world out there full of books just waiting for him to pick up and read. A small grin found its way onto his young face. He could do so much...now where to start.

The admissions representative peered skeptically at the young man standing nervously in front of him. The lad seemed to be around the age of sixteen and was requesting admittance to one of the most precocious universities in all of Great Britain with no money to pay for it and no schooling background.

"Are you out of your mind?" He asked, believing the interview to be a total waste of his time. "You do realize that you meet _none_ of the requirements necessary for acceptance at this school?"

The boy replied softly in a voice far too young for his appearance (Harry really needed to work on the voice effects) "I realize that sir, but would you please just give me a chance? I have been homeschooled in all the subjects and, despite the lack of records, know all of them quite thoroughly."

The admissions worker sighed and threw his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Fine kid. You can take the entrance examination. But don't come crying to me when you don't make it in."

"Thank you sir!" Harry responded excitedly. "I swear you won't regret it!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just get out of my office and shut the door behind you. The test is Saturday. Just don't get your hopes up kid." The man replied as he turned back to the piles of paper swamping his desk.

Two weeks later found Harry sitting opposite the desk of the University President being offered a full ride starting in the spring semester. Harry smiled brightly shaking the man's hand and promising to be back bright and early January first ready for more learning.


	8. Roommates?

Author's Note: Hi guys! Just bear in mind during this chapter that, however intelligent Harry may be, he is still only eight years old so if he seems to be acting a bit childishly, its because he is a child. Thanks so much to those of you that took the time to write reviews. It makes me really happy to read them:)

so, without further adieu, here 'tis...

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It was January 10th, Harry's first day at university. Suffice to say he was ecstatic. His bags had been sitting, ready to go, in the corner of his room for three weeks. With a careless glance in the mirror, the child threw on his glamor with a mere thought and stared back at the brown-headed and be-freckled sixteen-year-old staring back at him from behind large, thick-rimmed glasses which made his already too big eyes stand out even more. He had realized almost as soon as he entered the superintendent's office that he had misjudged his age slightly but, unfortunately, the mistake had already been made and there was no going back on it now.

Mentally, Harry once again went over his checklist. He was all packed up with one suitcase (muggles used these like trunks, apparently) containing his clothes and other personal items and the other holding the essentials. True, he had a photographic memory, but there was just something about the feel of holding an actual book in his hands... Deciding which ones to leave behind had been one of the most difficult decisions in his eight years. Of course, the ones he did choose to take with him had had to be disguised. He had cast a glamor over them to make them appear to be the complete works of Charles Dickens, a British author, several of whose works he had read (and greatly enjoyed).

Harry Potter took his bags in his hands and, with one last glance in the mirror, turned on the spot and silently reappeared on an abandoned street several blocks from his new school.

Finally, after feeling as though he had signed his life away, Harry came to the door of his dormitory and read the sticky note, haphazardly slapped onto the wooden frame: Eric Meyer, John West, and Harry Evans.

Harry had been a bit hesitant about using his real name. The old man Dumbledore had come to the house multiple times since his first visit and had given the younger Potter twin several calculating looks that had disconcerted the child a bit. But, all that aside, the Potters had never truly been a family to him, not since Lily died at least, and choosing to go by his mother's maiden name was a way for him to get a fresh start in life.

So it was that Harry Evans, formerly known as Potter, opened the dormitory door and stepped across the threshold into his new life.

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In their defense, Eric and John did not really know what to make of the no-older-than-sixteen-year-old kid with huge glasses and shoulder-length hair that they found sitting idly on the bed when they entered their dorm room. Being from the same town, they had driven in together and, much to their annoyance, spent the majority of the morning filling out paperwork.

Needless to say, they wanted nothing more than to collapse on their beds and fall asleep. But, when they got to their room, they saw that their new roommate had already arrived and, on closer inspection of the book he had laid down upon their entrance, seemed to have been thoroughly engrossed in Great Expectations.

Harry looked up hopefully and a little nervously when he heard the handle turn. He had arrived several hours early and had gotten out a book on the theory behind the unforgivables to pass the time. As he waited though, the book was not able to hold his attention as it usually did.

Would they like him? That was the question of the hour. No one had ever seemed to like him before. But then, Aaron had always been there. These muggles knew nothing about Aaron so perhaps they would see him, not as the lesser of two twins, but just as Harry. He could hope, couldn't he? He gave a shuttering sigh and, closing his book, raised his eyes to the door to see what would happen.

"Hi", Harry started weakly. "I'm Harry. I'm guessing that y'all are Eric and John?"

"Eric", Eric replied lightly, indicating himself, "and that's John."

There was a brief spell of awkwardness before John tried "So, you like Dickens, huh?"

"Oh yes!" Harry responded enthusiastically. Perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as it caused both Eric's and John's eyebrows to shoot up but, Harry, in his eagerness to escape the awkward silence, did not seem to notice and went on. "I really admire his writing style. I mean, so many books are just plain, simple sentences which I guess makes sense seeing as it is not really necessary to add flourish and elegance to books when they're only meant to inform people about things, but Dickens. His sentences go on and on forever until you completely lose yourself in the midst of his words and completely forget about everything around you."

It is, perhaps, a tribute to Harry's otherwise lacking social skills that he decided to stop there. By this time, the eyebrows of the other two college students were completely invisible beneath their hair and a smirk was beginning to form across John's face.

"Oh really." John spoke, his voice light but with a biting sarcasm barely concealed beneath, "Is that how you feel about it?"

"John", Eric warned softly, knowing his friend's short temper and that this kid was probably just nervous being younger and everything.

"Oh its alright Eric. He's fine. So how old are you anyway kid? 13? 14? I'm surprised they let you come here without your mom. Or is she staying next door?"

"Umm." Harry started, looking down at his hands. "Actually, my mom is dead."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Eric said. "We had no idea."

"That's okay." Harry responded, a small, childlike smile creeping onto his face. "I know that she loved me very much."

John choked and Eric had to hit his back to get him to breathe again. "So, umm. Do y'all want to pick your beds. You can have this one of course, if you want it. I just preferred being closer to the window." Harry said in an attempt to dissolve the tenseness in the room.

"Umm, yeah. Thanks. I'll take the one in the middle." Eric replied, eyeing John as he did so. While he doubted his friend would actually go so far as to hurt the kid, they were going to be spending the entire semester together and John and their new roommate had not hit it off well at all. It was better to put as much distance between the two of them as he could before things could go any farther downhill.

As the two older boys started unpacking their things, Harry turned back to his book to let them settle in. In all, he thought, things had not gone as terribly as they could have. True, John appeared to be a bit temperamental, but Eric seemed nice enough and, after all, it wasn't as though they really had to love each other. They were there for the teaching and the books. Where they slept did not really matter all that much.


End file.
